Stand Their Ground
by crazyundeadfairy
Summary: A slight tweaking of the end of Dead Man's Chest. Don't read if you haven't seen the movie.
1. Stand Their Ground

He could not say what it was exactly that alerted him to the fact that something was not right. Yet he knew Elizabeth well enough to know that the guilt twisting her features had to do with something other than the kiss. And with the Kraken near he had no time to coax the truth out of her. So Will did the only thing he could and dove out of the longboat and began to swim back towards the Pearl.

"Will, what are you doing?"

He just kept swimming. Elizabeth didn't matter. There was something in his gut telling him that he had to get back to the Pearl. So he swam. And tried not to react when he caught sight of the Kraken's tentacles appearing out of the murky depths of the ocean. As much as Jack loved his Pearl, Will knew that he was equally fond of living.

"Jack!" Will shouted as he latched onto one of the Pearl's mooring lines. "Jack! Can you hear me?"

"Will, have ye gone daft, boy? We have to get away!" Gibbs hollered at him, his voice distant enough that Will knew they weren't returning for him.

"I'm not leaving without Jack!"

As he struggled up the side of the ship, Will could hear scuffling sounds on board. At least Jack was still alive. With a heave that pulled his head up above the level of the rail, Will saw just why it was that Jack hadn't joined them on the longboat. Elizabeth had shackled him to the capstan. She had condemned Jack to death.

"Jack!" Will called as he pulled himself over the rail and onto the deck.

Jack cracked a lantern over the capstan, spilling oil over the shackle that bound him to his Pearl. "Not quite th' best place ta be at the moment, William, seein' as me Pearl is 'bout to be devoured."

Over Jack's shoulder, Will could see the tips of several of the Kraken's massive tentacles reaching over the rail. "Which is why we need to get off the ship."

Knowing that Jack was more than capable of getting himself out of the fetters, Will turned his attention to finding a way to distract the Kraken long enough for them to get away. A further wounding would do, but he would much prefer to kill the beast.

"Um, if you were intendin' t' come up wif a plan, I'd suggest that ye speed things up a bit, lad," Jack said from directly over his shoulder.

Throwing Jack an exasperated glare, Will saw what Jack was referring to. The spiky, tooth-riddled mouth of the Kraken was appearing over the edge of the rail. With it, Will could smell the rot of corpses on its foul breath.

"So, any plans? Or were ye simply so wearied o' life that ya thought you'd come die wif me?"

Will snatched the red bandana off Jack's head as he sprinted towards the remains of the mast. "Do you have any flint?"

"Hey! Give tha' back!" Jack shouted, reaching for his pilfered bandana.

"Jack, we need flint," Will reminded him.

"Flint?"

"Fire! We need to make a fire!" Will sloshed the stained fabric about in the puddle of oil Jack had made smashing the lantern.

There was a large section of the mast laying only a few steps away; long and with a sharp, jagged point. He straightened and had taken only a single step when the foul breath of the Kraken increased as it let out a deep, rumbling roar that was completely with a fetid gunk spraying through the air. For several endless seconds he was bombarded by the slimy mess then something bounced off his stomach before the barrage of gore slowly petered away to nothing.

"Ahh, my hat."

Ignoring the gunk and slime that covered him, Will reached for the section of the mast he'd been moving towards earlier. He immediately began winding the oil-soaked cloth around the pointed end. "Do you have the flint or not, Jack? Because if you don't this is all rather pointless."

There was an ominous crack as the massive tentacles tightened around the Pearl's hull.

"Ye can be right ingenious when ya choose ta be, Will," Jack said, touching his small flame to the knotted cloth. "You do realize, though, that this'll buy us a few minutes a' best?"

"Take that end," Will instructed as he hefted his end of their now flaming spear from the deck. "It's more of a chance than Elizabeth gave you. Now!"

As a pair, they rushed forward towards the gaping maw of the Kraken. Will wasn't fool enough to think they would survive, but he'd rather die at Jack's side than live a coward, running away.


	2. Shipwrecked

He was lying on a beach. Or at least what he assumed was a beach as there was sand in his mouth and water tickling at his toes. Which also meant that his boots were gone. Unfortunate, that, he'd always been fond of those boots. Cracking one eye open he saw a crab scuttle across the sand. Most definitely a beach. Which begged the telling just how he had ended up on said beach.

"Jack?"

With one William Turner for company.

Odd, considering his last recollection was of intending to join his _Pearl _at the bottom of the sea. It was a decision enforced by the surprisingly piratical Elizabeth Swann, but one that he was not entirely disinclined to. It was fitting for a captain to go down with his ship. Especially when he was Captain Jack Sparrow and the ship was the _Black Pearl _. They were two legendary figures that should not part. The less favourable aspect of his possibly legendary demise was that he had been bound to the capstan.

"Jack?"

This time the question was followed immediately by a solid whack to his shoulder by what he could only assume was the hand of young Mister Turner.

"Oi! Watch it!" Jack grumbled, managing to flop his head in the opposite direction so that he could see Will who looked as wretchedly sand-covered as he no doubt did. "There's no need t' lash out. Wasn't _ my _idea t' turn th' kraken inta a kabob."

"And just what was your idea, Jack? Charm it into not eating you?" Will shot back, scowling at him in a way that would have done his mother proud.

"Not such a bad idea, that," Jack mused, the last word a grunt as he managed to coax his body into rolling about onto his back. "Have a feelin' that it would 'ave been far less painful than yer method."

"We're alive, aren't we?"

Jack was silent for a moment, taking stock of the differing sensations in his body. All of his faculties appeared to be present and accounted for, albeit some a trifle more present than he cared for.

"We are alive, I'll grant you that, Mr. Turner," Jack admitted, bobbing his head as best as he was able while lying on his back. "It's our current location that I'm not c'mpletely certain of a'the moment."

Will's response was little more than a grunt which was a surprisingly good interpretation of Jack's own feelings as to their current local. All things considered, he was simply glad to still be among the quick. Soon as he found the energy, he had every intention of sorting out just where they were. For the moment it was only a secondary concern because they had not, it seemed, been abandoned by whatever gods looks after pirates and their compatriots. And since still being alive had put him in a charitable mood, Jack allowed that same though to stray to Gibbs and the rest of the _ Pearl's _crew that managed to survive.

"Do you think we should try to find some shade?"

Jack had very nearly drifted off back to oblivion when Will's voice cut through the peaceful silence. Only after it had been brought to his attention did Jack begin to feel the blistering heat shining down on them. Or perhaps he had simply dried off. The sand certainly had that annoying quality to it, being stuck in the most inopportune places.

"Provided shade is near I wouldn't be opposed t' going in search of it," Jack relented, forcing his eyes to open once again. He immediately shut then when the sun proved too bright.

Still not entirely inclined towards moving, Jack pivoted his head about and very carefully squinted his eyes open. As was always nearly the case when on a beach, shade could be found directly behind them. The distance wasn't too great which was a blessing, though still farther than he wanted to move at that moment. However, better shade now than a burn and heat stroke later.

"If yer feeling so inclined, Will, there's some shade 'bout twenty paces b'hind us. Give or take. It's a bit difficult to determine distance when you're upside down."

Once again Will's only response was a grunt. The boy had never been remarkably eloquent, but could usually be counted on for something a touch more enlightened.

"You all right, Will?"

"Define, 'all right.'"

There was most definitely more spark in that response. The boy couldn't be damaged too badly and manage to have that much discontent in his voice.

"Yer all right," Jack informed him and with a great force of will turned himself back over onto his stomach. "Come along then. Time for shade... unless, of course, you prefer impersonatin' a lobster."

Jack couldn't quite make out what Will said, but it certainly didn't sound the least bit gentlemanly. If he hadn't known better, Jack would have assumed he was more piratical in his tendencies for the words that were coming out of him.

"Really, William, such language," Jack admonished then began to scuttle his way towards the copse of palm trees that would provide them with some much needed shade.

A disgruntled volley of curses followed after him, but was loud enough to assure Jack that Will was following after him. So long as Will had the energy to be disgruntled it meant that he was not seriously injured. So Jack assumed, at least. The worst injury he had seen Will bear was the gouge to his palm so many months ago. From what Jack remembered—being somewhat otherwise occupied at the time –the boy hadn't even flinched when the cut was made. Had been quite grumpy afterwards as well, though Jack suspected that had more to do with being locked in the brig than anything else. Or an opportunity missed.

Jack felt a ripple of pleasure overtake him as he crawled into the shade. Probably not much cooler than the air around them, it felt world's better than the rest of the beach had. More comfortable than the same to lay on as well. Will gave a similarly contented grunt as he collapsed onto the grass.

"What do you think the chances are that Gibbs and the rest are nearby?"

Jack very nearly arched an eyebrow at the question. Not so much because of the question than because of who had not been named in it. Perhaps young William had witnessed his dearly beloved's act of piracy. Could help explain why there had been a second man aboard the _Pearl _when she went down.

"Could very well be. Only so much land for us to land 'pon." Jack spit as a light breeze blew a long shaft of grass into his mouth. "No doubt your lady love has already organized a search party t' come looking fer us."

Will's failure to answer was most definitely a response in itself. Jack had very little doubt now that Will had seen what young Miss Swann had been up to on the _i Pearl's /i _deck. Not too surprising considering she hadn't even bothered to wait for Gibbs to get on the longboat. Would have been quite easy for Will to poke his head above and see the goings on.

"Don't hold any of it 'gainst her, lad. She only did what she thought she must t' save the rest o' ye," Jack said solemnly, turning his head in Will's direction.

Only it was not Will lying next to him, but a mass of barnacles and coral that had once been a man.


	3. Prisoner

The brig of the _Flying Dutchman _was half under water. The wood was warped and swollen, the bars rusted and barnacle-encrusted. Yet both held strong despite Will's best attempts to free himself.

He was still not entirely certain how he had ended up back on the ship in the first place. The last he remembered was being on a beach with Jack, utterly exhausted and water-logged, but none the worse for wear. Desperate as he was to free himself, Will was likewise concerned for Jack who was no longer with him. After all, Jack was the most likely candidate to be locked up in the _Flying Dutchman's _brig.

Unless Davy Jones had killed him.

Jack's death was not something Will particularly wanted to contemplate. Jack had been alive the last time Will had seen him and Will hoped that he remained so.

"You're a lucky one, whelp."

Will flinched at the name even though it was not Barbossa's voice that spoke it.

"The captain has plans for you that don't entail becoming a part of the ship."

Will could not see who spoke, but that in itself was not a strange thing. It was entirely possible that the man was already well on his way to becoming a part of the wretched vessel. A fate that Will was desperate to save his father from. He wanted his father to be able to find peace at last.

"What are his plans for me then?" Will said into the darkness, not entirely certain that he would receive a response.

There was a pause during which time the ship gave a mighty groan.

"Bait."

Will snorted mirthlessly as he sloshed about in the small confines of his cell. "Bait? Surely not meant to lure Jack in. The damned pirate already sent me here once to pay his debt. He won't bother to come after me now when he's free and clear."

"He's already on his way."

The words stopped Will in his tracks. He could not fathom the idea that Jack would do anything for him that would put his own life in jeopardy. Jack's first goal was always self-preservation and stepping on board the _Flying Dutchman _went in direct contradiction of that. It made no sense that Jack would come after him.

"How can Jack get here if that beast of Jones' destroyed the _Pearl_?"

This time there was no response from whatever section of warped and deformed planking had once been a crewman. Frustrated, Will kicked at the bars and let out a stream of multi-lingual curses he had picked up from ten years of living in a port city and one night of drinking with Jack. All of his cursing and stomping did him no good and only succeeded in making him wetter than he had been to begin with. Though he doubted very much that Jones would send the _Flying Dutchman _under water while he was on board—there would have been little point in keeping him alive if that was the case –spending so much time in a half-drowned cell could not be good for one's health.

Stopping his pacing, Will leaned against the far wall of his cell, watching for any of Jones' misfit crew. He wasn't entirely convinced that he was to be used as bait, but the possibility remained for him to be used as sport for the crew. Barbossa had threatened as much the year before after he had given himself up to free Elizabeth. Will had been told, in vivid detail, just what could be done to a man without actually killing him. That crew, at least, had been men. Will shuddered to think of what the monster who crewed the _Dutchman _could come up with. Death could very well be a far preferable fate.

"Jack won't come for ye."

Will looked up, somewhat surprised to see Bootstrap standing on the other side of the bars. He'd expected Jones to keep him and his father apart after what had happened the last time he'd been on board.

"What makes you so sure Jack won't come?" Will asked, keeping himself on the far side of his cell.

"You mean beyond the fact that the _Pearl _is once again at the bottom of the ocean?" his father chuckled wetly. "Jack will never give up his life for another. If he can't find a way to talk himself out of this mess then he'll run. But no way is he coming for you."

"That's not a very high opinion you have of him considering you once risked your own life to save his," Will pointed out, watching as his father twitched about nervously on the other side of the bars.

Bootstrap paused in his pacing to look at him. "That night was a choice between Jack and Barbossa. For all his faults, Jack is a far better captain than old Hector could ever hope to be. But when it comes to lookin' after his own hide, no one does that quite so well as Jack Sparrow. You should know that well as anyone."

"I'll not deny that Jack's concerns often go no further than himself," Will consented. "But he has saved my life. More than once. And it has not always been to his advantage."

The barnacled pirate nodded his head slowly and turned towards the stairs that led out of the brig. "Then you know a side of Jack Sparrow that I do not."

Will was not entirely sure whether to take comfort from his father's words or not. Simply in terms of time spent together, he and Jack had known each other for barely a fortnight while his father had sailed with Jack for years. Will had vague memories of his father telling him stories of "Mad Jack" when he was a child so the two men had certainly been friends a long while. Bootstrap would certainly be better acquainted with Jack's habits.

It seemed more likely, then, that Jack would not be coming after him.


	4. Setting Sail

"Gibbs, my good man, you 'ad better have rum aboard that vessel."

His first mate stuttered and gaped for a few moments, the rest of the crew who had come ashore in the longboat looking equally surprised to be seeing him. Back aboard whatever ship the _Pearl's_ remaining crew had managed to commandeer, Tia Dalma, on the other hand, looked quite pleased with herself. That, of course, was most definitely not an odd thing. Quite usual for her, really.

"Cap'n?"

"The rum, Master Gibbs?"

Gibbs shook his head in utter amazement, the rest of the pirates—and a certain governor's daughter—looking equally flabbergasted. Jack waved a hand about in front of their faces, but didn't get any sort of reaction until he pushed the tip of his forefinger against Gibbs' forehead. The Scotsman jumped back, crossing himself fervently.

"You're still alive?"

Jack turned about on his heel and weaved the few steps that separated him from the young Miss Swann. "Don't think I'm so easy t' kill, do ye?"

"But the captain is supposed to go down with his ship."

"Th' captain did go down wi' his ship," Jack confirmed, grinning widely and leaning in close. "The captain also 'appened to swim away whil th' beastie was otherwise occupied. No rule 'gainst that."

"And Will?"

Spinning away from her, Jack made straight for the longboat. "Snap to, gentlemen an' lass, I need t' consult with a witch about our next heading."

"But what about Will?"

With the help of Gibbs and the two from Barbossa's lot, Jack got the longboat back in the water and pointed in the right direction. "No time fer that now, Lizzie. We 'ave other things t' worry 'bout."

"Jack!"

"_Captain,_ if you please," he called over his shoulder while clambering into the small boat. "Me _Pearl_ may be temporarily lost, but I am still her captain."

"What about Will?"

Sitting himself at the helm, Jack's attention was caught by a shadowy figure he could very nearly make out standing near Tia Dalma. Still, he couldn't refrain from hollering back, "Funny ye should worry 'bout William now."

Whatever else she shouted at him was lost as the waves began to drag the longboat away from shore. The half-hidden figure on the deck of the mystery vessel crossed through a patch of sunlight and Jack felt a tremor snake up his spine. He hoped it was simply a matter of his eyes playing tricks on him after four rather dull days on a rather dull island. Enough food, shade, and water to keep him content, but no rum whatsoever. Or any other form of alcohol.

"Correct me if th' lack of rum is affectin' my brain, Mister Gibbs, but di' I just see a dead man there on tha' fine ship you've commandeered?" Jack asked, scanning the shadows for another glimpse of what was possibly his mutinous former first mate.

Gibbs stammered a bit, his lips flubbering without making much sense. Even without the words, his answer was obvious enough. Barbossa was on the ship.

"Do I want t' be knowin' how it is that snake Barbossa is still alive?" Jack turned his head about so that he could see his present first mate.

"Well, Cap'n, I wouldn't say 'e's alive exactly. Perse," Gibbs mumbled, looking everywhere but at Jack himself. "I would say it's more a matter o' him bein'... animated."

Jack felt a sudden urge to once again shoot the damned monkey. He could say with almost absolute certainty that it was the reason Barbossa was suddenly back among the living. No doubt Tia Dalma had worked her strange magicks on the monkey and brought back its cursed owner from whatever corner of Hell he'd been wallowing in.

As they rowed back to the ship—the _Triton,_ Gibbs told him it was named—Jack's mind went back to young William who was now sailing, albeit unwillingly, with Davy Jones to the ends of the earth. Or so the coral reef impersonating a man had said to him.

"_Give Jones back the heart and the _Pearl_ is yours once again."_

_Jack eyed the cursed pirate suspiciously, rising to a more upright position. "An' what makes 'im think I 'ave any clue where it is?"_

"_Don't much matter t' the Captain," the barnacle shrugged. "He wants 'is heart, you want th' _Pearl_"_

"_What of th' boy?"_

"_Come quick e'nuf an' he may still be alive."_

Never let it be said of Jack Sparrow that he was entirely unfeeling towards his crew members. Will may not have signed the Articles, but he had done all within his power to keep the _Pear_ from being swallowed. Will had even gone beyond to save Jack himself, something that could most certainly not be overlooked. The fact that young Will had chosen to do so could undoubtedly be put down to the boy's unwavering and highly frequent bouts of stupidity, but one had to admire his determination... while muttering curses under one's breath.

"She said that we were coming here to collect a new crew member," the slightly bedraggled Miss Swann broke into his thoughts once again. "She said that we'd need to travel to the ends of the earth to rescue you, but that we had to get one more crew member first. I thought she meant Will."

Turning about on the bench so that he could see her, Jack couldn't help but smirk at her utterly confounded expression. "Y' know wha' they say 'bout 'ssumptions, luv. Tia's well known fer her tricks. Canna say for sure wha' she knew 'bout me Pearl's death, but it was you 'oo decided it'd be me dead an' Will still livin'."

"You mean that Will's..."

"Might 's well be in 'is present state," Jack sighed, turning back to the galleon that had been commandeered. "Young William had made a fool of old Jones before so I doubt very much tha' he's been welcomed back wi' open arms."

"He shouldn't have gone after you."

The sound of waves breaking against the sides of the longboat made it difficult to determine if the snuffling he heard was real or imagined. Even so—

"No, he shouldn't have."

—Jack couldn't help but share her sentiments. The boy was too noble by half, a trait which would earn him more than the five stripes that already scarred his back.

"'Course, he wouldn't be the brash young Mister Turner if 'e hadn't done something foolish."


End file.
